Saturday, May 23, 2009

Dear Timothy--Like Father, Like Son?

Dear Timothy,

You did a funny thing yesterday, my Timmy Tyme. Being an absent-minded professor type, you always take forever to eat and get dressed. It's just your way--annoying though it is. Those activities are a waste of time to you, I guess. Mommy has a habit of forgetting to eat...but my dressing? I seem to do fine attending to that.

Your mind just seems to wander, taking you to great places, no doubt. Maybe it's the large map of Ohio that is just above your bed, made by Daddy and Daniel during a social studies lesson? Does it set your mind to wondering about something? I often see you standing up on your bed, studying that map, naked as a jay bird. Your clothes I find still laid out--untouched--on your bed. "Timothy! I said to get dressed!" Five minutes later, I come back, finding you tinkering with a puzzle. "TIMOTHY! Get dressed! Focus!" And so it goes, my Timmy Tyme. Sometimes I swear you have ADD, but there are no OTHER signs. Just this dressing and eating and cleaning-up thing. You focus well at all other times. I've considered whether you might be the passive-aggressive type--but no, there are no other signs of that. There's nothing intentional about your mind wanderings.

You were never one to want to do any personal care for yourself. Unlike your sister, Emily Rose, who is constantly insisting, "No! My do! I big girl! Me do it!" You've never uttered anything like that, my love. Come to think of it--your brother never has either. Must have to do with the differences between boys and girls? Girls want to hurry and grow up, so they can take care of others? Boys don't see the need to take care of anybody--themselves included? lol

Come to think of it--Daddy does ask me if his clothes match before we head off to church. Or he just asks me what I want him to wear. lol Maybe so he won't have to change? Your Daddy's hopeless-bachelor roommate said to me, about the time we got engaged, "That man needs a wife worse than any man I've ever met!" Not really knowing what he meant, I just laughed nervously. And when your Daddy, at age 38, told his PA friends that he was moving to California, they chuckled and said, "Don, I'm telling ya. Your clothes will never make it in California!"

When our family grew and we had to get four children ready for church, I no longer cared what Daddy wore to church. I think he was a little disappointed, to tell you the truth. Any other day he doesn't care what matches, and tends to pick out the oldest, most-worn clothes, as a rule. Mommy, being the personally-neat and tidy one, sometimes tries to throw away your Daddy's old T-shirts. You know--the ones that are frayed at the neck? Half the time, I'm found out. " did that make it into the trash?", I say, upon him holding up the shirt. Then I turn away, trying not to smile.

Anyhow, you and your brother enjoyed some water play yesterday--followed by a snack inside and getting into dry clothes--before venturing out again to make a race track out of the boards we took off the garden beds. After serving your snack, I reminded you of where you left your dry clothes, and then I went about my indoor business.

Checking on the two of you a bit later, I saw you outside with just your dry T-shirt on--nothing else.

Momma: "Timothy! You're naked! What are you DOING? For heaven's sake!"

Timothy: (Looking at me like..what's the big deal?) "Oh, I didn't know that." You then hot-tail it inside (afraid you might get disciplined), looking everywhere for your dry shorts--the location of which I'd already reminded you about.

That's my Timmy! I'll be sure and give a heads-up to your future wife.

Mommy to fiance: "I tried! I promise--I tried! All my efforts were a waste of time. He's a hopeless personal-care case! What can I say? He knew all his letters and sounds by his second birthday (without direct teaching), was reading at four, and knew what a negative number was at five. But remembering to put on his clothes before going outside? Hopeless!"

So, Timothy. Remember this when your own son is five and you find yourself throwing up your hands in frustration. Something tells me Daddy was just like you---all those years ago.

I love you, Sweet Timmy Tyme! Keep on wondering..dreaming..discovering. I'll try not to get in your way too much. Except to keep you from accidentally mooning the neighbors. lol

All My Love,


No comments: